Sunrise, Sunset
by Mandy of the Amoeba
Summary: The first chapter is told from the POV of Lily and Petunia's mother as she watches her final sunrise....the second chapter is told from the POV of Minerva McGonagall.
1. Diana's Sunrise

A/N: Okay....this turned out to be an incredibly stupid fic, but the idea just HIT me and it wouldn't go away, so I had to write it.  And there is probably something in the books to contradict that this EVER could have happened, but hey, it's fanfiction.  I can warp histories if I wanna. ;)  Oh, by the way, this is told from the POV of Lily and Petunia's mother.  And I own nothing except the concept.  Unless someone else has come up with that already, too...  
  
  
~*~  
  
Sunrise is such a beautiful time, a time worth getting up early to see.  The birth of a new day, the awakening of life and warmth, the soft, rosy colors spreading across the sky and penetrating the darkness.  I've been paying more attention to sunrises lately, because in my condition, each one could be my last.  
  
I'm not afraid of dying, not now when Death seems to be breathing down my neck. I don't think I really ever was to begin with.  Dying is just another part of living, in my eyes, and no one can escape death.  All anyone can do is live life to it's fullest in the short time we have. I always tried to live my life without any regrets, but I didn't quite succeed.  There are some things I said and did in my younger days that I'll be sorry for until the day I die.  Considering the fact that the day I die could be today, there is the bright side that I won't have to live with regret much longer.  
  
I guess it all goes back to when I was a young girl, about ten years old, when I never recieved my Hogwarts letter. Everyone else in my family was magic, and I regretted being a Squib.  It took years for me to realize that my lack of magical abilities was no fault of my own; it just wasn't meant to be.  I think that's part of the reason why I hated my sister with such a vehemence, although my own shortcomings are certainly no excuse for my feud with her over all these years.  After we got into the habit of not speaking to each other, it seemed easier to just keep on being silent.  
  
It pains me now to see my two daughters having a similar quarrel. It's a quarrel based on jealousy and resentment, yet it might be ended if Petunia decides to stop being so stubborn; Lily is a kindhearted woman, and I know she would forgive her sister without question.  As for me and my sister.....we're both stubborn as mules, and proud to boot.  I think it's too late for any reconciliation. I don't even know if she would forgive me.  
  
Things wouldn't have been so bad if she hadn't been so GOOD at everything magical.  We were both smart, but she was more than smart: she had talent, and lots of it.  Maybe a little too much, even, because she seemed too preoccupied with her studies to care much about making friends.  That has affected her adult life more than she likes to admit.  Although she's a successful person at first glance, I know her relationships have all suffered because of her ambition. that damned ambition that caused her to be so good at everything.......  
  
My mind drifts back to the world in front of me as the sun slowly begins to climb higher in the sky.   "The sun's not really moving, Diana." I remind myself.   "The earth is turning around.  And it will go on turning even after you're gone."  
  
The thought is almost depressing. What do I have left? I have two daughters who hate each other, two grandsons who probably won't ever meet, and a sister who probably doesn't know or care if I'm alive or dead. I do have regrets.  Even though I turned my way of thinking around and learned not to hate other people, it was too late to mend things with my own sister.  Even worse, I must have done something wrong with Lily and Petunia, because Petunia can't stand her little sister.  It pains me to know that most of that is my fault; Petunia wouldn't resent Lily so much if it hadn't been for all the attention we gave her.  I couldn't help it; I was so proud of my little girl for being everything that I hadn't been.  Passing on the magical bloodline was important to me, and I had accomplished that through Lily.  
  
She wasn't the only one; there was a new generation now, her son Harry. I'm so glad I got to see him once before I die....he and Dudley too, of course, but I'm certain no drop of wizarding blood can be active in him.  He's not even a year old yet, but his parents have spoiled him so much that I know he's going to be ruined. I feel sorry for the little tyke....he may be given everything material he desires, but it will never make him happy.  
  
I have high hopes for little Harry.  Something tells me he's going to be great someday.  He'll go to Hogwarts, I know it.  Maybe he'll be put in Ravenclaw...I always liked the sound of that house, and I know he'll be a smart boy.    
  
But I suppose my loyalties should really lie with Gryffindor.  Both of my parents were in that house, my daughter was......and so was my sister.  Now, she's even gone on to become the Head of Gryffindor....or so I've heard.  I still keep up with the Daily Prophet, although I guess it's a little silly since I'm not really even a wizard.  Still, it's nice to know what's going on in that world, the world that I've always felt so closely connected to.  The world my sister lives in.    
  
My sister.  I've spent half my life pretending that I didn't have a sister.  I'm as bigoted and selfish as Petunia has become, and it's my fault she's the way she is now.  My girls don't know they have an aunt.  At least Lily is acquainted with her, even if she doesn't realize they're related.  She used to come home during the holidays, telling us about all her classes and professors....it took everything I had to remain cheerful when she mentioned Professor McGonagall.    
  
Once, in her fifth year, Lily said to me, "I really feel a bit sorry for Professor McGonagall, Mum.  She's awfully strict, and even though she's kind to all of us.....I get the feeling she's lonely."    
  
I don't remember how I replied to that, or if I even said anything at all.  It doesn't matter much anymore.  The sun keeps getting higher and higher in this summer sky, and every minute seems to take away more of my strength.  I'll be dead before nightfall, I'm sure of it.  One last regret lingers in my heart, and I send up a silent prayer,  
  
_"Lord, let Minerva know I love her."  
_  
  
~*~  
  
Well?  What did you think?  I may considering writing another part to this from Minerva's POV...I'm not sure. 


	2. Minerva's Sunset

A/N: Some of you asked for another part to "Diana's Sunrise" from Minerva's POV....well, here it is!  I'm uploading it as a separate story for now, although I may change my mind and just chapter it later....I'm not sure.  Anyway, read Diana's Sunrise if you haven't already.  Maybe I should just chapter this now.....oh, what the heck, I'll give it a few hours as a separate story and then I'll chapter it.  Or something like that.  I'm tired, don't bother me....  
  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
Blazing orange light melted over the horizon as I stand looking out my window, a letter clutched in my hand.  It's a hasty, scribbled, angst-ridden message from my niece Lily, who never knew I was her aunt until today.  She found out through a note that her mother had written just hours before, and that's why she knew to send an owl with the news.  
  
My sister is dead.  
  
Strangely enough, I don't really feel anything.  Shock, maybe, but shock is numbing, so I suppose that's why I can't react to this, why I can't cry.  Then again, I have no reason to cry.  Why should I cry for a sister I never really knew?  For a sister I feuded and fought with for longer than I care to recall?  No, I don't have a reason to cry, not now....not when I can't change anything....  
  
I can't stop a twinge of emotion prickling at my heart as I think back on all the years gone by.  She was only one year younger than I, and we were the best of friends as children.  We had our whole futures planned out.....go to Hogwarts, graduate at the tops of our classes, and go on to become huge successes in the wizarding world.  I remember how we used to act out what we would be when we grew up.....we'd pretend to be famous singers, miracle-working doctors, anything and everything we could think of.    
  
Then, Diana turned ten.  I had completed my first year at Hogwarts, and she simply couldn't wait until her letter came.  The summer wore on, and with each passing day, she grew more and more anxious, watching the sky for an owl that would come bearing a heavy yellow envelope.  All too soon, it was August 31st, and I was boarding the Hogwarts Express without her.  I almost expected her to stay home; I didn't think she'd be able to stand the disappointment.  But come she did, hoping against hope that there had been a mistake, and that she would find someone waiting for her at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, rushing to give her a letter that had somehow been delayed.  
  
Of course, no such person was there.  I can still picture her tear-streaked face in my mind as the train pulled away, the image of anguished disappointment.  I can still hear her voice yelling over the noise of the train as I waved to her and our parents from a window.  
  
"I hate you, Minerva McGonagall! I'll hate you until the day I die!"  
  
Another pang of emotion tears at me as I relive those words.  _Until the day I die._  I stare at the fading sun, the screaming voice of a ten-year-old girl echoing in my mind.  "Did you die hating me, Diana?  Did you keep that vow you made, all those years ago?" I whisper softly to the empty room as I turn away from the window.    
  
Suddenly, I realize how empty the room really is.  It's amply furnished, yes, but there isn't anything there to reflect who I am.  No photographs of friends: I haven't any.  No family keepsakes, although I do still have family.....but I'm not a part of that family anymore.  No knickknacks to clutter things up.  No decorations, nothing.  Only a small, cedar box on the dresser that I haven't opened in years.  I don't have to open it; I know exactly what's inside.    
  
Yet I want to open it.  I've gone this far down memory lane, there's no sense in turning back now.  With trembling fingers, I put the crumpled letter down on the dresser and lift the hinged lid of the box, pulling out it's contents slowly, handling them as though they're precious jewels.  A handful of fake costume jewelry.  Two matching butterfly hairclips with letters on their bodies, one with a D, the other with an M.  I'm not sure how I ended up with her clip as well as mine. A little pearl bracelet that had been mine as a child, much too tiny to fit even my thin wrist now.  Some smooth, round pebbles we had collected by a stream one afternoon.  Another butterfly hairclip.....Diana loved butterflies, and was always talking me into buying butterfly jewelry.  
  
Finally, tucked away in the corner of the box, I see what I've really been looking for all this time.  A necklace on a long, thin gold chain.  The pendant is made of some sort of pale pink stone, cut in the shape of a heart, and on one side of the heart rests a tiny golden butterfly.  This was the last thing she ever gave me.  When I had returned home from my first year at Hogwarts, she presented me with this.  She had one similar to it, and she used to talk about how when we were both at Hogwarts together, we could wear our necklaces and everyone would know we were sisters.    
  
As I hold the necklace, a tear drips silently onto my palm, and I realize that I must have been crying for some time now.  I should have forgiven her.  I should have written to her, or called her on a Muggle phone, or gone to visit her.....but pride and stubbornness kept me from doing so.  And now she's gone.  I'll never get her back.  I'll never know if she really hated me until the day she died.....  
  
A soft hoot from the open window startles me out of my thoughts, and I automatically wipe the tears from my face.  An owl is perched on the sill with an envelope attached to it's leg.  Hastily, I take the letter from the bird, and it's flies away.  
  
My eyes well up with fresh tears as I read Lily's handwriting for the second time today:  
  
  
Aunt Minerva,  
  
I forgot to send this with the first letter.  Mum told us to send it to you in her note, and said you would understand.  
  
Love,  
Lily   
  
  
Taped to the parchment is a necklace, the little golden butterfly perched faithfully on the pink stone heart.  
  
  
~*~


End file.
